


Don't Let the Assholes Get You Down

by RosalinaBallerina



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: AU, F/M, agressive, hatefucking, triplet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-02-04 23:07:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12781605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosalinaBallerina/pseuds/RosalinaBallerina
Summary: Your roommate is the worst. Time after time, he’s proven himself an obnoxious, self-righteous brat. But when a tense encounter ends up leading to so much more, boundaries are crossed and old lines are left undrawn in the sand. When all else fails, follow your gut instinct and let your emotions rule.





	Don't Let the Assholes Get You Down

**Author's Note:**

> _Anon said: Your writing is bomb- feel free to put this garbage prompt out with the rest of the garbage but this is all I got: kylo become jealous when he sees you dancing with another guy and bitterly hooks up with your friend before you kylo both come to your senses and hate fuck. God I'm melting. Is it just me?_
> 
>  
> 
> It is most definitely not just you, anon!! I’ve never actually written hate-fucking before, but I kind of got carried away, so I hope this is what you’re looking for! 
> 
> Okay, when I started this fic I had no idea it was going to take over five thousand words to tell this story, and I certainly had no clue I would reach nine thousand. I’m gonna go lie down in the trash compactor now. This was a prompt but it’s also probably the most self-indulgent thing I’ve ever written.

It takes a great deal of patience to deal with getting ready as the stress of angry rock music blares through the apartment. Simply asking Kylo to turn it down would be a waste of time: he’d just roll his stupid gorgeous brown eyes and slam the door in your face. Instead, you send muted curse words through the walls and ignore the blaring noise in the background.

Your reflection blinks back at you, annoyance tweaking your eyebrow and scrunching your nose. It’s hard to tune out the music, as loud as it is, but eventually you manage to focus on your appearance rather than the shrill electric guitar solo ringing in your ears. 

The shirt is loose and drapes over your torso while a large, colorful pendant hangs heavily in the center of your chest. The leather skirt clinging to your legs is daring and sexy, and gives off a boldness that you weren’t sure you actually possessed. Turning this way and that, you watch each crease of the fabric and study the way it moves, making every attempt to assuage the performance anxiety curling in your gut.

The phone on the dresser to your left buzzes, vibrating barely audibly against the wood.

_Jess (7:15pm): you done raking yourself over the coals? you look fine._

The text is quickly followed by a trio of typing-bubbles and a soft ding.

_Jess (7:16pm): hey, ask Kylo if he wants to go. doesn’t kill to be polite._

It wasn’t fair that she knew you so well. If she weren’t your best friend, you supposed you would’ve told her to fuck off. After all, Kylo was the worst, all hulking darkness and pissy attitude. But, as usual, Jess was probably right. Maybe if you kept Kylo in your favor, you could finally get him to knock the goddamned volume down. You keyed in an affirmative and sent it, sliding your phone into the clutch on your wrist. With a deep breath, you left your bedroom and crossed the hall, the music getting miraculously louder as you approached.

"Ky-lo!" your voice struggled over the deafening bass line blasting from behind his door. How he lived with his teeth rattling in time with the beat was beyond you. The music decreased subtly in volume as you rapped your knuckles against the wood. "When you're done rubbing one out to your own reflection, Jess and I are going for drinks. Feel free to tag along."

You halted, fist still raised against the door, frustration drawing out the tiny divot between your eyebrows. A long moment passed with no reaction from the other side. Just as you crossed your arms and cocked out your hip, his door swung inward, Kylo looming above you and looking just as annoyed as you felt. By his stance you could tell he was attempting to be intimidating and -though you would never admit it to anyone - it was kind of working. Instead of shrinking down, like your body instinctively tried to do, you squared your shoulders and met his grimace with your own. A tense silence flowed between the two of you before you rolled your eyes and let out a huff of a wry laugh. Kylo's right eyebrow rose slightly. His eyes raked down your body, discomfort shifting your once-confident posture.

"Yeah. Okay, Ky."

Kylo’s frown deepened at the old nickname. Half of a smirk curled your lips as you turned your back on him.

With a slight turn of your chin over your head, you flashed him a sneer.

"Change your shirt if you’re gonna come with. You smell like a Bantha."

You barely heard Kylo mutter "fucking nerd," before he slammed the door.

"Is he coming?" A high voice trolled from the kitchen, flat and bored. As you rounded the living room, you gave your best friend a shrug.

"Who knows with him.” You lower your voice several pitches and tuck your chin into your chest. "I'd rather brood in my room and listen to angry music because it matches the endless black depths of my soul."

Charmingly, Jess let out an elegant snort and the two of you dissolved into a fit of giggles.

Gooseflesh rose across the back of your neck as you felt a shadow somewhere cross over you. Jess's laugh died off and she looked down, suddenly fascinated by the speckled granite of the countertop. You knew he was scowling, and you knew he knew you rolled your eyes without even facing him. Some dynamics never change.

"So you decided to tag along after all."

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm only going for the booze."

You made some noncommittal noise in the back of your throat and scooped up your keys.

"Ready, Jess?"

Jess straightened and stepped out from behind the counter, the kitchen light shining off the gorgeous silver fabric of her tight little dress. A pang of jealousy shot through your gut as the dress clung to her slim curves, drawing out her better features. For a second, you almost pulled a scowl to rival Kylo’s.

Instead, you reminded yourself that she was your best friend and that you had nothing to be jealous of. Of course, this wasn’t a surefire way of subduing anxiety, but you stamped the thought back and gave Jess a smile while subconsciously pulling the fabric of your top away from your abdomen and then letting it fall back into place.

"Sure thing! You riding with us, Kylo?"

"I'd rather drive myself."

"Like hell, you will." You turned to face him. "We're catching a cab home and I'm gonna need someone to drive me to pick up my car tomorrow."

The drive is short: a local bar means the cab fare back will be cheap. The music outside the club tastefully labeled “The Chicken Coop: Cock’n’Tail Club” is upbeat, a techno-esque beat vibrating the door that swings open with little resistance. In a strange act of courtesy, Kylo holds it open as you and Jess walk in.

Already, the energy of the club beckons you to the dancefloor, the blaring bassline sending your pulse thudding with rhythm. The wide smile on Jess’s face matches your own, the music already soothing your anxieties from the past week. It takes some force, but eventually, you manage to push through the throng of bodies separating you from the bar and order two fruity drinks at Jess’s request. The bartender flashes you a smile as he sets the drinks a little off to the side, leaning onto his forearms against the bar as he cocks his head.

“First time here?” he shouts over the music, the flashing lights turning his teeth red, teal, yellow.

“How’d you know?”

“Call it a hunch, sweetheart!” He turns to grab a bottle of clear liquor from the shelf. His other hand snags two shot glasses and sets them on the bar, one in front of you and the other in front of him. He pours the shots neatly, though he spills a few drops as he transfers the bottle from over your glass to his. The smile on his face never fades as he picks up his glass and clinks it against yours.

“On me. Cheers, pretty girl!”

His attitude is infectious, drawing your body closer to the bar as you grab the glass and throw the shot back. A trail of fire streaks from the back of your tongue all the way down your throat, settling into a nice warm heat in your belly. Whatever it is, it’s strong. You slam the glass down at the same time he does, managing not to choke on the afterburn by sheer willpower. He looks impressed for a moment before his smile falters as his eyes dart somewhere above yours. The presence at your back is close enough to you that when you turn around, you’re nearly chest to chest with him.

Kylo looks pissed, his lips drawn tight and his eyebrows nearly touching, but he doesn’t bother to look down to you. Instead, he slides his hip in front of you and shoves you back from the bar, drawing an indignant noise from your lips.

“Jack Daniels. Make it a double.”

You give the bartender an apologetic smile and an accompanying shrug before you push off of Kylo to snag the drinks from the bar and head back to Jess.

“What’s up Kylo’s ass?” you call as you set the drinks down on the small table Jess commandeered.

Her smile comes a moment too late for her mind not to be elsewhere, and her answer is vague.

“Something’s always up his ass.”

Following her gaze, you realize that she’s watching Kylo at the bar, his posture stiff as he takes his drink from the bartender (who looks considerably less friendly with Kylo at his bar).

“Woah, Earth to Jess. Hey, c’mon, I got us some ridiculous drinks, let’s do that thing where we drink them and then go dance!”

Jess’s smile is genuine when she turns back and grabs your wrist, pulling the both of you to the center of the bar.

The dance floor is a wonderful mess of sweaty bodies and spilled liquor, teeming with life and vitality under the brilliant neon lights. Heat pours from the crowd as the thrill of being in a vibrant setting crawls over you, sending bursts of liquid energy through your veins.

It isn’t long before your trips to the bar increase in frequency, and dancing on your own turns into dancing with partners, bodies swaying and jerking together with the music.

A pair of hands rests on your hips as you shake them, pulling you back a step to make contact with the body behind you. It’s all too easy to let go and grind on the unknown guy behind you, secretly thrilled at the prospect of someone finding you attractive enough to dance with you.

It’s too easy to throw your head back onto his shoulder, arms snaking over your head with the music. For someone that continually expends so much energy worrying about what others think, this level of carelessness is near a spiritual experience. By now, all the songs sound the same, effortlessly molding from one beat to the next as your body presses against his. His breath is hot in your ear, his hands solid on your hips, keeping you close. His praise is murmured and fuzzy as your brain struggles to put speech patterns together over the cadence of unrestricted freedom.

“We should get out of here,” he yells over the music, drawing your hips back against his.

“I have friends here.”

He doesn’t seem to care much for this answer; the grip on your hips grows firmer and he tugs you back against him.

“So?”

“So, I shouldn’t go home with you.” Come to think of it, you hadn’t seen Jess or Kylo in forever. “Actually- I gotta, um, I gotta go find them. I’ll be back. Maybe.” It’s near impossible to pull away though, not with his hand gripping your hips so tightly.A tendril of panic parts the fog in your mind, a beacon of clarity amidst addled confusion. You cling to it, shaking your head as one of his hand wanders down your side to your thigh and settles just under the hem of your skirt.

“Stay, baby. You’re having fun here with me, aren’t you? Don’t go.”

Carrying a conversation over the music was difficult when sober, but between the distraction of alcohol and the panic as you struggle in his grasp, focusing becomes even harder to manage. Terror ignites in your belly as the moment of clarity starts to fade. The streaks of neon lights morph into butterflies, swarming across your vision in disorienting patterns of color and intensity. Was it always this dark in here? Out of seemingly nowhere, the neons are dim, and the room is spinning, and it’s hot, too hot, and-

“Let go of me! I wanna go find my friends, I don’t wanna go home with you!”

When he decides that the end result isn’t worth the struggle, he pushes you away from him. His mouth twists in disgust as you turn to face him.

“Fucking tease!” He stalks past you with a huff and slams his shoulder into yours. As if your balance wasn’t fucked enough, you nearly stagger into a pair of dancers that throw colorful curses at you. One girl in a distractingly shiny dress takes pity on you and steadies you by your elbow. You look up to thank her but she’s already gone amongst the crowd.

The dance floor is too much all at once, an overwhelming cocktail of stimulations you could handle anymore. Jess. Where’s Jess? Or even Kylo? Someone, anyone.

An image emerges, half faded in the back of your mind. The colorful smile of the bartender with his funny teeth. He was nice. Maybe he can help.

It takes a while, but you manage to locate the bar and rest your forearms against the sticky wood. Breath finally comes unbidden to your lungs, and you feel the tension in your shoulders start to dissipate.

The bartender looks sympathetic when he comes and pours you another drink. Despite your better judgment you swallow it quickly and set the glass back down.

“Not having a good time, girlie?”

The exaggerated pout you put on for him earns you an affectionate chuckle.

“Don’t let the assholes get you down.”

“Cheers to that.”

His smile is fond and you sigh, letting your shoulders sag.

“I should go. Let me close out my tab. What do I owe you?”

With the tab settled and your pockets considerably lighter, you manage to stagger back to the table Jess and Kylo had sat at last time you saw them. The only problem is, Jess isn’t there, and neither is Kylo. Confusion seeps into your alcohol-soaked mind, your eyebrows pinching together. They weren’t on the dance floor, that’s for sure. They weren’t at the bar- the bathroom, maybe?

No Jess in the ladies bathroom, just a couple making out on the dingy counter, the light shining off of a belly button piercing on the one making the pitiful noises. They pay no mind to you as you let the door shut behind you, shaking your head to clear it. Well, they definitely weren’t Jess.

Staggering back to the bar, you flag down the bartender who finishes the drink he’s making and leans over the bar to hear you.

“Have you seen my friends? One is big and scary looking, huge jackass, long black hair, all dark clothes and sulking? The other one is a brunette, about as tall as me, wearing a little silver dress?”

He shakes his head and offers a sympathetic smile before turning to help a customer. It’s only then that you remember the phone tucked into the clutch hanging from your wrist; you struggle with the zipper until the phone is in your hands. The words on the screen swim before your eyes, and you have to blink several times to read them properly.

_Jess (1:14am): Kylo was sober enough to drive us back. you looked like you were having fun, didn’t want to disturb you. love you, be safe._

Indignation flares up the back of your neck and leaves a bad taste in your mouth as you crush the phone in your grasp. It takes a curse-word filled moment before someone at the bar shoots you an annoyed glare and you realized that you’re responsible for your own ride home. It takes a few moments to navigate the apps and menus, but eventually you manage to pull up the Uber app and request a ride

The trip back is quiet as you stew in your anger. She’d better have a damn good reason for ditching you, especially when the night almost ended disastrously. You shudder as you stop to think what might’ve happened if the guy hadn’t given up on you.

You hand some bills to the driver and toss him a thank-you before climbing out of the car and staggering up the flight of stairs to your shared apartment. Thankfully, the door is unlocked (you weren’t entirely sure you had the precision to unlock it with a key), and you flip on the kitchen light, too lost in thought to register anything other than getting a glass of water to take to your room. Eventually, you make it to bed and change into an old college hoodie and sleep shorts before dropping onto your mattress, giving a moment to appreciate the softness of your quilt, and falling into a drunken sleep atop the covers.

* * * * * *

Jesus _fuck_ , the sun is fucking bright.

Eventually your eyelids peel open, grating and painful, sandpaper against your eyes. The groan that slips from your throat sends a stabbing pain up your neck and to the forefront of your head. Your hands come up to cradle your forehead when you shift to sit. You must’ve only been out for a handful of hours: the clock on your bedside table glares at you with blaring red numbers. It’s only a little past eight o’clock. Your throat is raw and dry, a dull ache settling just above the top of your sternum. And God, your legs are killing you. Even without shifting you can feel the buildup of lactic acid lingering within the muscle. The very prospect of moving is enough to stress you out.

You send a quick thank-you to Drunk You, bless her heart, and down the glass of water on your bedside table. Though it’s not nearly enough to quell the general feeling of utter shit, it is enough to steel your nerves as you push to stand and grip the table for support.

Rifling through the medicine cabinet in the kitchen is agonizing, but with a slight struggle, you manage to snag the bottle of ibuprofen and refill your glass, quickly popping three little red pills into your mouth and washing them down. Dropping your head into your arms on the counter helps to soothe the headache a little, effectively blocking out the light streaming in through the windows. It isn’t until you hear shuffling on the other side of the tiny island before you look up, still hunched over the counter.

"Oh. Uh, Jess, hey." Your lips pinched together in confusion and leftover annoyance. She’s wearing a pair of your old sleep shorts -you must’ve lent them to her in the past- and her gray bra from last night. "Did you, um, sleep on the couch? You might want to put a shirt on before Kylo-"

 _Speak of the devil._ An arm snakes around Jess's waist, pulling her back against a bare chest. Your words crumble and die in your throat.

Jess’s voice is soft as she looks away and mumbles, “Kylo,” before looking back to you, guilt molding her lips in a frown. Your gaze flits from Jess's embarrassment to Kylo's smug grin, the both of them watching for your reaction. It took a moment, under the almost-blinding brightness of the kitchen lights with the hum of the refrigerator raging against your skull, for the realization to set in.

"No. No fucking way."

If anything, Kylo's smirk grows across his face as he sways with Jess in his arms.

Your name was feather-soft on Jess's lips. An unnamed emotion seizes at your joints, prompting a flight-or-fight response. She’s talking to you like you’re some kind of cornered animal, two seconds from bolting away. Her dainty hand pats Kylo's as she steps away from him. Disgust twists your features, your hand coming up to press against your clammy forehead.

"You have to be fucking with me. I can't deal with this right now. I-- I-- "

Bile sears your throat by the time you remembered how to use your feet. You stagger between the two of them, hand clamped over your mouth as you drove your shoulder into Kylo's chest to move him out of your way. It would have been satisfying, had it not been for the fact that he was so fucking massive, his muscles so obnoxiously large, that he barely registered your shove and stepped away of his own volition.

Though there was next to nothing in your stomach as you wretched, you threw up anyway, whimpering as stomach acid burned all the way up your throat and into your mouth. The lingering taste alone almost had you doubled over the toilet again. Something, anything to steady your stomach- your hands snag your toothbrush and chase the sickening taste of stale booze and vomit from your mouth.

The porcelain counter is cold against your blazing flesh as you steady your palms on it, hanging your head with your eyes closed.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous.”

Whirring around so fast brings a fresh wave of nausea as you lean on the counter for support.

“Fuck off, Kylo! How could you do that to me? She’s my best friend!”

“Get over yourself,” Kylo shrugs, looking awfully unbothered. “Not everything is about you.”

“Oh, fuck you, Kylo!” Though it’s unexpected from the both of you, you plant your palms on his chest and shove, sending him staggering backward more out of shock than the strength of your assault.

“You’re being ridiculous,” he hisses, swelling into to your personal space. His chest nearly presses against yours.

You cringe as your shriek echoes off the bathroom walls. “I’m being ridiculous? You fucked my best friend! What, you couldn’t keep it in your-- your _ridiculously tight pants_ for one night?”

Kylo sneers. “Oh, please. You’re one to talk. Don’t act like you weren’t getting groped on the dance floor with some other guy’s hand up your skirt.”

“Is that what this is about? Who the _fuck_ are you to judge me?”

Kylo expects the next shove when it comes and easily snags your sluggish wrists from the air, pinning them each on either side of the sink on the counter behind you. His chest heaves with breath, his indifferent facade shattered. Kylo is all muscles and broadness pressed against your body, one of his feet in between yours, keeping your legs apart. For just a second, you’re sidelined by the way the fury plays in the amber-brown of his eyes. A quick shake of your head brings your pride back into context.

“Let me go! You jackass! You absolute jackass!” He’s much stronger than you, and by the way he’s holding you down, all your fidgeting proves pointless. You can’t move an inch. His hands pin you to the counter, his legs hold yours against the cabinets, and his chest keeps your body trapped against the countertop. Panic swells in your chest as you struggle and writhe like a trapped animal, fighting for release. “Let me the fuck go! Who do you think you are? Just because you’re this big, fucking, muscled douchebag- you think you can get whatever the- ow, fuck! Kylo!”

You’re so enraptured with your hate-spewing monologue that you hadn’t noticed Kylo’s eyes flick to your lips. His mouth crashes against yours with a force that nearly knocks your teeth together. His lips were searing and commanding as he grabbed both of your wrists in one hand and held them behind you, the other coming to the back of your neck to hold you against him.

“You’re such a fucking brat, you know that?” The grip on your neck tightens as his lips brush against yours with every word. “And do you _ever_ shut up?”

“Kylo- what the fuck? What the fuck are you doing?”

“Oh please, you act like I don’t see you eye-banging me every time I walk into the kitchen. You’re not subtle, little girl.”

Okay, so he isn’t exactly wrong. Kylo commands attention every time he walked into a room. His presence is lingering and dark, broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his t-shirts with ease. The expanse of his chest had buttons straining to keep in place when he wore those button-ups that made your mouth water. Really, it’s a simple matter of fairness. His body is chiseled to perfection, like a statue crafted by a renaissance sculptor with a kink for bulging muscles. Not to mention he walks around the damn apartment shirtless half the time, dark birthmarks splashed across the deliciously pale skin. Of course, you’d never ever tell him, but a good half of your spank bank was dedicated to fantasies starring Kylo.

A whimper claws itself up from your throat as you try again in vain to wrench your wrists from his grasp.

“Prancing around this damn apartment in your shorts and dresses, grinding up against other guys like a hungry little slut, so starved for affection that you’re willing to let anyone grab your ass, huh?” He latches his lips onto the skin of your throat, the hand around your neck drifting down to cup the soft flesh of your ass to make a point.

It’s frightening, how quickly your resolve melts away under his grasp.

“At least,” you pant, mouth drawn into a swollen snarl of your own, your chin barely above the crown of his head as you bare your throat to him. If you’re gonna throw a punch, better make it a low blow, right? “At least I don’t have a severe case of mommy issues and an impulsive need to possess and control everything around me!”

His growl echoes off the walls, deafening and terrifying. Instinctively, you try to flinch away, but the only place to move is closer to Kylo.

“Oh-- no fucking way, Ky,” you grit out through a gasp as he takes the skin of your neck into his mouth and bites down, laving his tongue around the abused flesh. “Do you really have a boner right now? Damn, I guess you really don’t have any self-control.”

“You should watch your goddamned mouth before I fuck it,” Kylo breathes. A sharp pang of electric heat shoots from your somewhere deep inside your chest to between your legs, your thighs clamping together in reflex.

“You can call me a slut all you want- you’re the one pitching a giant tent against my thigh.”

“You talk big, but I’m willing to bet you’re dripping down your thighs right now.”

“Why don’t you find out, you fucking brute?” you challenge into the still air of the bathroom. His lips stretch into a grin against your flesh, his teeth pressing into the skin deliciously. It’s a struggle, but you manage to smother the moans that threaten to give away your disposition.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You wanna feel my fingers in your cunt? Fucking slut. Fine. You want it so bad, take it.”

Your breath hitches as his hand slides from your ass to the front of your shorts, bunching the fabric in his hand for a moment as if to demonstrate how revealing they really were. In one fluid movement, he twists his wrist and jerks, his body keeping you pinned against the counter as the seams of the fabric give way. Kylo rips one leg of the shorts easily, letting the fabric fall, the broken elastic in the waistband allowing the shorts to drop clean around your ankle.

“What the fuck, Kylo? Those were my shorts!”

“You called me a brute, might as well embrace it. At this point, I’m not even surprised by the fact that you’re not wearing any underwear.”

The heat that flushes across your face grows twice as hot as Kylo pulls back to get an eyeful of your cunt.

“I didn’t wear any at the club, either. No panty lines, no problems.”

You didn’t really plan to give this admission, but it’s hard to focus as his fingers skate over the front of your thigh and travel up the middle, brushing against the sensitive flesh centimeters below your pussy. He shakes his head and smiles ruefully in disbelief. You barely manage to suppress the whimper in your throat as Kylo pulls his hand away from between your legs. Instead, his hand comes to your face and his fingers push against your lips, his eyes tracking your movements. After a long moment, you glare up at him and part your lips, running your tongue along the underside of his fingers. A dangerous moan slips out from his throat as you slide your tongue between his fingers, suckling just enough to make a loud popping noise when he pulls back.

“Fucking whore,” he mumbles, bringing his now wet fingers back to your entrance, skimming just over your clit on his way down. The light pressure is enough to make you jump, though his other hand is still wrapped tight around your wrists.

With no other preamble, he presses against your cunt and begins to slide his fingers in, drawing the sweetest gasp from your lips. Kylo’s hair tickles against your jaw as he moves to rest his forehead against your shoulder, crooking his finger enough to drag against the front wall of your pussy. Fire radiates from between your legs, veins singing with a cacophony of shame and pleasure; every limb seems to quake with a delightful buzz that sends you jerking against his hand when he pushes his second finger into you.

“You fucking like that, don’t you? I’ve barely touched you and you’re already fucking yourself on my fingers. So fucking wet. Disgraceful.”

But he’s right. Grinding down against his fingers pushes him into you further, stretching you open and digging into your flesh. It’s a dizzying feeling, and your greed runs rampant as you cant your hips.

“Try not to -fuck- jizz in your pants, Kylo. I know how difficult it is for you to restrain yourself from taking whatever you want.”

His fingers arch again and brush against a spot on your front wall that pulls a pitifully decadent moan from your throat, sending a jolt of electricity down your spine and through your limbs. His chest stutters with breath against yours as he searches for that spot again, your knees weakening. He easily supports your weight with his own as he pulls his fingers out, passes over your clit once more, and then shoves them back in with an obscene noise.

“Whatever I want? Please, princess, you’re the one with my fingers in your cunt. Isn’t that what you’ve been dreaming of since we first met?” The drag of his knuckles against your walls is delightful, overwhelmingly so. Your eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment as a moan echoes off the bathroom walls, ringing in your ears. It sounds like a concession. “I know that look in your eye every time you check me out. You were fucking hungry. And you still are. Only now, you don’t get a say in it anymore.”

“Fuck you, Ky.”

“It looks to me like I’m the one fucking into you, kid. You’re the one moaning like some two-bit whore.”

His fingers twist as he plunges them inside of your cunt, thick and warm and wonderful, so wonderful, while he drew more gasps from your lips, playing you like a goddamned instrument. His fingers work into you with a rhythm that rocks you against the countertop, the back of your thighs burning as the corner of the porcelain bites into them.

“Fuck, fuck, Kylo I’m-”

“Look at me.”

And how could you deny him when you were this close to coming undone on his hand? Your eyes snapped open to meet his, his expression so full of passionate loathing that you couldn’t help but curl your hands into fists and thrash against his grip when he added his ring finger. The stretch burned enough to trigger a visceral reaction from your core, jolts of pleasure rocketing through your brain. With bruising strength, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to hold back any more incriminating noises.

“Shit, Kylo!”

“That’s it, moan my name. Go on and cum on my hand, princess.”

The world explodes behind your eyes as his index and ring finger scissored inside of you, a burning stretch that left you feeling both full and painfully empty. His middle finger crooks and finds that spot that drove you wild; he shows no mercy as you begin to tip into an oversensitivity, rocking his fingers in and out, in and out. He doesn’t let up until you’ve stopped shaking and slump forward, your forehead against his chest.

Though you gasped and panted, air was slow to come and fill your lungs, left absolutely breathless as he dragged his fingers out of you one last time and brought them to your lips.

“Open.”

The taste of your own cunt was sharp and tangy on your tongue and, to your surprise, not entirely unpleasant as you cleaned your own slick off of his fingers. The warmth of your tongue drags along the side of his fingers lazily until he presses them against the muscle, drawing a gag from the back of your throat. You took the non-verbal reprimand in stride and threw yourself into swirling your tongue around the tips of his fingers, giving them one last suck before he pulled them from your lips to inspect them.

Once he decides they’re clean enough, he leaned forward to capture your swollen lip in his, his tongue pushing hot and heavy into your mouth, tasting yourself in your mouth. The moan that escaped him was low and dark, something unnamed passing between the two of you.

“Shit, Kylo,” you pull away with a gasp as his thigh presses into yours. “You’re so hard.”

“Brilliant observation, sweetheart,” the pet name is twisted and mocking in his mouth, though it still manages to send a violent tremor through your body. “Now get on your knees and do something about it.”

He steps back, letting gravity pull you from your perch on the counter to your knees. You fumble for a second, trying to find a place to put your hands before you settle on the front of his hips, one hand on each side of the defined v-line that dips below his sweatpants. He looks so enticing that you can’t seem locate the witty remark you had lined up a minute ago.

“Your mouth is watering. Cock-hungry little slut,” he murmurs under his breath, dragging his hand through your hair and twisting tightly around a handful of it. He pulls you closer to his crotch, dragging your cheek against his hip as he grapples with what left his self-control. His cock is massive and uncaged when it swings up at full attention, no longer restrained by his sweatpants but too heavy to fully bob against his abdomen. Of course Kylo wouldn’t be wearing any underwear.

For a second, you think about reprimanding him for his hypocrisy, but then the fist in your hair is pushing you closer to his cock and you lose your train of thought again. Your hand wraps around the base of his dick to steady yourself, warm and heavy, and so, so hard. Kylo’s cock is absolutely gorgeous, long and thick with a delectable curve that seems to beg for your tongue to follow, the head a rosy pink with a bead of cloudy precum dotting the tip. It makes sense then, why Kylo is so damn arrogant all the time.

Perfect motherfucker.

And then you can’t wait anymore, and neither can Kylo. Just as you part your lips to take in the head, Kylo’s fist pushes you onto his cock, the tip sliding past your tongue and bumping painfully against the back of your throat. He holds himself there with a groan even as you gag and sputter around his dick, a string of drool slipping from your lips and to the floor. Through your eyelashes, you meet Kylo’s eyes, your expression sending a vehement shudder through him.

“You look perfect like this.”

The complement inspires a strange blossom of warmth through your chest, vibrating your entire body with a pleasant hum. Gracelessly, his cock gives a shallow thrust against your tongue, another groan filtering from between Kylo’s half-closed lips.

“Fucking shit, your mouth is so fucking warm around my cock,” he pants before pulling out, resting the head against your lower lip as you gasp for air, taking gulps with a heaving chest. The reprieve doesn’t last. There’s a craze in his eyes, unbidden and hungry. With one sharp stab of his hips, his cock is back in your mouth, his other hand coming to join the first and fist into your hair. It’s easier, now that you know it’s coming, to hold back the gags as his length presses against your throat. Just when you think you get the rhythm, Kylo holds your head still and gives a handful of short thrusts until his cock is down your throat and your nose is pressed against his abdomen, eyes watering and nose starting to run.

“That’s it, cry on my cock. I know you can’t help how much you want me, little girl, I know,” he mutters, the snarl on his lips and the fire in his eyes drawing a flutter of fearful apprehension up your spine. Your world narrows down to the cock in your mouth and his honey-amber eyes locked onto yours, your heart pounding with each thrust of Kylo’s hips. Your back knocks against the cabinets noisily with each stroke, but you can’t find it within yourself to care as his hands tighten in your hair and the cock in your mouth pulses with need.

And then in one disorienting movement, you’re jerked up by your hair, pain lancing through your scalp and down your neck as you gasp for air. Your legs scrambled for purchase to take the pressure off of your scalp but are rendered useless as Kylo’s moves one hand from your hair to your hips, flipping you effortlessly over the counter so that you’re nose to nose with your reflection.

Kylo’s body is quick to follow, his erection poking at the back of your thighs and sliding up the crease of your ass. A feral groan slips past your lips as he brushes your perineum, a noise that’s half-moan and half-growl. His hips are unforgiving against your own, driving your belly into the counter. It would be painful, were you not so aggressively aroused.

“Can you see yourself? Look at you, practically slobbering all over the counter like an animal.” His sentences are punctuated with shallow, teasing thrusts that draw the softest whimpers from your lips. “You sound absolutely pathetic.”

Your eyes are drawn to his face, his full, swollen lips twisted up into a sinister snarl as he tightens the fist in your hair and jerks your head down until you’re eye to eye with your reflection. It takes a moment to register that the panting, desperate creature looking back at you is yourself; your pupils are blown wide, dilated with lust and passion as your mouth gapes open, eyebrows drawn together in annoyance. His teasing drives you wild, sends spasms of anticipation and frustration through your nervous system until your synapses are flooded with lighter fluid; a rolling blaze settles in your gut as your body shudders against the cool countertop. The heat is nearly overwhelming, your cheeks and ears a bright shade of red.

“What, no smart comment? No fiery retort?”

“I hate you Kylo, I --shit-- fucking hate you,” you manage to gasp out.

Your ears ring with his resounding snarl, your eyes drawing to a close as the wide head of his cock stretches your entrance. It slides into your cunt with little to no resistance; your own arousal is leaking down your thighs, your pussy willing and needy. Kylo’s gasp as he fully seats himself speaks volumes, whispering promises of undiluted pleasure into your ears.

“You say that, princess, but here we are, my cock in your tight little --shit-- your tight little cunt, all wet and dripping for me.”

There’s a stiff moment of silence between the two of you as you draw your eyes away from the wanton creature gazing blankly in the mirror, and look up to him. His gaze is hungry, greedy as it scan your body up and down until his eyes come back to rest on your face. The corner of his mouth twists up in derision.

His hand is only in the air for a second before the noise of skin-on-skin rings in your ears and bounces off the walls, giving an audible sensation to the sharp burst of pain that radiates from your ass. The slap sends you clenching around his cock, and elicits salacious noises from somewhere deep inside your chest as he swats you again, and again. Your fingers skitter over the countertop, desperately seeking something to hold onto but find purchase on nothing.

“Kylo! Please!”

“That’s it, beg. Use that mouth for something better than your shitty banter.”

A rush of resentment surges through you, threatening to cut through the haze of lust that has settle over your brain. He wants you to beg? For him? There’s no fucking way. You would never lower yourself to him like that.

And yet, you can’t stop the words that pile out of your mouth. It's as if your desire can’t get them out fast enough.

“Please, Kylo! Please fuck me!” Your voice is foreign to your own ears, keening and ridiculously needy. You sound almost like a petulant child, demanding they get their way, resorting to pleading when that fails.

Kylo obliges.

The sensation of his cock dragging along your walls as he pulls out of you is almost indescribable; it leaves you open and searching, your hips bucking back to find him once more. The utter feeling of loss as he pulls out of your cunt resounds through your entire body, the emptiness overwhelming. His hand finds the small of your back and keeps you pinned to the counter.

“Pathetic begging bitch,” Kylo spits, his hips rutting against you. In the mirror, you watch him bend at the waist, his bare chest clinging to the skin of your back as traps you against the porcelain. The weight on your back forces shallow breaths, lightheadedness seeping into your adrenaline-soaked brain. His tongue is hot and wet when it meets the back of your neck, collecting the sweat that threatened to drip off of your skin. Another growl from Kylo hums against your neck as he snaps his hips once, twice.

“Goddamned egotistical jackass,” you wheeze, fighting for breath under his weight. Splotches of your vision go white as he rocks into you, his cock the perfect girth to meld the burning stretch into an explosion of euphoria within your cunt.

“You’re close already, aren’t you? Gonna cum on my cock? I know you want to, little slut. You’re too easy to please. So close to coming undone a second time, just for me, aren’t you? Pitiful.”

Just for that remark, you grit your teeth and manage to push your hips back to meet his again, his cock striking against your cervix with a crushing force. It takes a considerable effort not to let your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“You’re the one rutting against me, like, like a fucking puppy.”

His hands release your hair and grip at your wrists, his chest lifting off of your back as he drags you upwards. You’re only separated from him for a moment, before Kylo pulls you to him, his fingers skating up your arms, around your torso, and to your chest, where he pulls the fabric of your bra below your tits and takes a hardened nipple between them. You whimper in response, a pitiful, high noise that drives Kylo to give a sharp tug to both nipples.

A part of you wants to tell him to fuck off. Another part of you wants to tell him exactly what you think of his arrogant charade. And a final part of you wants to beg, plead, and cry for him until your face is red and your cunt full. But that means submitting. That means giving up the power to him completely.

It’s a tempting thought.

Maybe Kylo can see the fire of rebellion in your eyes, or maybe he just knows your expressions by now, but he drops your tits and grabs at your waist again.

“Brace yourself on the counter.”

For a minute, you think about ignoring his command out of spite. But then that damn part of you that wants so badly to take everything he’s willing to give pipes up and takes control, and you can’t help but follow suit, placing your sweaty palms on the porcelain.

In one long, fluid thrust, his cock pounds against your pussy, threatening to snap every fiber of resistance you have. The feeling of being fucked so full drives you delirious, half-wild with a reckless abandon.

Somewhere above you, Kylo’s chin tilts up for a moment before he spits, the wet glob of hot saliva running down the small of your back and slipping into the crease of your ass.

“Ew! Kylo, that’s fucking disgusting!” You writhe against his grip, but he holds you firmly, snagging your wrists again when you try to push off the counter.

“Not as disgusting as your propensity to dream about getting fucked over every damn surface in this apartment. Stop fucking fighting me.”

Well. He’s got you there.

Then he lets go of your wrists so you can return to your former position, and slides one hand over your curves, coming to rest on your ass.

“You’re awfully full of yourself.”

“And right now, sweetheart, you’re awfully full of _me_. So stop fucking talking, and go back to drooling over my cock.”

Right again. Your cunt clenches around his length as he sheathes it fully within you. It’s a torturous pace, and Kylo seems to know that, but spares no expense in teasing the everloving shit out of you.

His fingers grip your ass, no doubt dotting five little bruises in their wake that won't appear until tomorrow. Then his thumbs part your ass, giving him a clear view of your asshole. One thumb edges closer, spreading the glob of spit around in a tight circle against your flesh.

“Wait, wait a fucking minute!” you panic as his thumb slides against your hole. Kylo ignores you, of course, choosing instead to press against the muscle with enough pressure to leave you breathless under his grip. “Kylo, I-”

“Hush. I told you to stop fighting. You’re going to cum with my cock in your cunt and my thumb in your ass, or you’re not going to cum at all. Am I understood?”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer. In all actuality, you’re not sure it really matters; his tone was so severe, so commanding that you probably couldn't have mustered a response anyway.

The tip of his thumb pushes forward, though it’s met with resistance. True to his nature, Kylo continues pressing and pushing, flexing without mercy until his thumb slides home to the first knuckle, and he gives a small snap of his hips. A hiccuping sob tears from your throat as the feeling of having two holes filled at once washes over you, a prickling sensation of searing pain and undeniable, unyielding pleasure. For a moment, it’s agonizing. Then, it’s euphoric.

Kylo finds the last fiber of resistance and snips it with practiced ease.

“Kylo!” you howl as he pushes both thumb and cock further. At this point, you don’t even really know what you’re begging for. Something instinctual tells you that you’d do absolutely anything for him to unwind the coil that threatens to snap inside of you.

“Kylo, please! Please, please just, please! Let me cum! I need it so bad! I need you so bad!” Your sobs are unrecognizable to your own ears as your body completely submits, going slack against his grip. With your elbows locked, your arms are the only thing that keep you from collapsing against the counter.

“That’s it. What a good girl. You take my cock so well.”

His hips fall into a rhythmic pace, hypnotic as your body rocks against the counter. Your words have devolved into pathetic hiccups as you gasp for air, your lungs full with the haze of lust. Oxygen is slow to come as you slip further into the fog that settles over your consciousness, urging you into a pliant, submissive state that elevates your reality to levels of unimaginable pleasure. It’s too late to feel subconscious or to question this newfound state of mind, too late to feel anything other than your world being fragmented, shard by blissful, intoxicating shard.

“Doesn’t that feel nice? Submission is so much better than fighting against yourself, isn’t it?”

The porcelain is cool against your cheek as you nod, eyes glassy and mouth gaping with words that will not form. Somewhere above, Kylo shushes you with a soothing coo, his free hand sliding up from your ass and under the fabric of your bra to cup a breast, tugging softly on the hardened bud. Your chest heaves with a wracking gasp, your hips bucking further back onto his cock, subsequently pushing the thumb deeper into your asshole. The precipice of something great, something unnamable seems to loom too close; it feels as though if you’re not careful, you’ll step right off of the safety of the ledge and plummet into the unknown. Just the threat of orgasm that tingles at the base of your neck is easily three times as powerful as any you’d ever been brought to before, including the one you’d had what felt like both several minutes and several eons ago. A sense of time is not included in this new level of pleasure, it seems. Though it may not have been your first time having sex, it was the first time you’d been rendered to such a helpless state. Reverted back to something so simplistically submissive. It was beautiful.

“That’s it, little girl. Cum for me.”

Whatever grasp you had left on reality slipped from your fingertips as you were catapulted over the edge, the security of the sure and certain left behind as you writhed on the bathroom counter. Each new movement took you higher and higher, until it felt like you would combust with the heat of the sun so close to your back. The warmth spreading across your shoulders washed over you, bathing you in a liquid golden embodiment of pleasure, radiating and pulsating deeping within your core as it seeped through your skin. Everything around you seemed to hush to a nearly imperceptible buzz of noise, the light behind your eyelids a mesmerizing wash of sheer bliss. The air is cool against your face as you soar above the clouds, a welcome relief from the inferno that broils your insides.

The warmth is nice at first, several moments of beautiful, awe-inspiring waves of pleasure lapping at the shores of your consciousness. Something deep inside of you pushes against the fire in your belly, sending you spiraling further into the sun, the tingling mock-pain of overstimulation creeping into your exquisite trance. The fire roars.

Too hot. It’s too hot all at once, each movement licking at the flames that surround you, swallow you whole, and your once languid, floating body jerks and twitches with vehemence. A ragged sound somewhere outside of your consciousness tears at your focus until you find yourself losing altitude, losing the once-glorious warmth that you reached for with all your might. You’d give up anything, everything to feel that warmth again.

It isn’t until your eyes focus on the mirror in front of you that you remember your place. The ragged sounds were clearly your own breathless moans and pants, the high keen of Kylo following you into that blissful state the source of the warmth in your belly. His thumb slipped from your asshole, both hands gripping at your hips with the desperation of a man lost at sea clinging to his last scraps of hope. The pulsing inside of you stilled as his grip loosened, until he was massaging tiny circles into your flesh.

For a moment, you felt the ghost of that golden warmth linger in your heart when you saw his expression; his eyes were closed, eyebrows raised, plush, pink mouth drawn into a beautiful ‘o’ as the omnipresent wrinkle above his nose faded from existence. In the back of your exhausted, pleasure-logged mind, you realize one simple truth: you would dedicate your life to getting Kylo to make that face again. You would do absolutely whatever it took to bring him that soul-rending pleasure, as long as his hands never left your hips and his face never fell.

And then his eyes flutter open, his gaze lingering over your ruined body. His eyes are drawn back to your face eventually, trekking over your own swollen lips, watching the way they twitch as he pulled his cock from your cunt with an obscene squelching noise. His cum leaks freely down your thighs, joining your own slick in a half-dried cocktail of muted lust.

Your feet touch the shag bath mat underneath you when he gives a half-step backward. His hands on your hips guided you to turn around until your waist was against the side of the countertop, his chest inches from yours. He seems to be searching for something in your face, though when he looks away, you weren’t sure if he’d found it or not.

“Yeah. Okay.” His words were breathy. Ragged. A habitual phrase he must’ve picked up from you somewhere along the way. He clears his throat in a jarring noise that makes you flinch and then draw closer to him when your still-sensitive ass presses too hard against the cabinet. A low hiss of protest seeps from your lips in a gentle sigh.

“Clean yourself up. Jess is waiting in the kitchen.”

Dread seeped into your gut, twisting the memory of pleasure into a mass of panic and regret. You shouldn’t have have let this happen. What would Jess say? Would she be upset at you? At Kylo? You twisted your fingers together, an anxious habit, and dropped your chin to your chest.

Kylo’s fingers ghosted over your chin and held your jaw, angling your head up to look at him. His eyes were tender, golden, filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite place, couldn’t quite name. So much had passed between the two of you in your fits of passion, so many new feelings and experiences you would have to sift through and catalog later. For now, you tried to focus on his gaze as it chased away the negative feelings.

Vaguely, you ponder your new dynamic with Kylo. Did this cross a line? Was there a line to begin with? Your mind fills with questions, eyebrows drawing slightly together under their onslaught. Why would he act this way? Why did he kiss you? Why did he say all those things he said? Unless-- the thought hits you like a bullet train.

“Kylo,” you blurt before you can change your mind. “Were you jealous?”

You watch his guard go up as his expression shifts back to the half-snarl, half-scowl you know so well. The newfound light in his eyes dims until they returned to their original deep amber. You almost ghost your fingertips over his lips, press them back to the near-smile that he’d had before the illusion of intimacy had been shattered, but let the thought die when his hand releases your face and drops to his side.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he huffs, hand curling into a fist and then relaxing again. It seems he can’t meet your eye as he looks from the sink to the shower curtain, then to the tile floor. “I just. Was proving a point. That’s all.”

The lie is easily detectable, but you let it slide for now. A bigger issue worries at the back of your mind. Your eyelids draw shut as a low groan slips out of your throat. Though you can’t see it, you know you have Kylo’s attention again. When you open your eyes, he looks almost worried. He won’t ask, but you can see the concern in the tilt of his brows.

“What the fuck am I going to say to Jess?”

And then his playful smirk is back, one giant hand coming up to try to smooth down a portion of your hair.

“That’s all you, princess.”

“Asshole,” you grumble and push past him to grab at your shorts, accusingly holding the mutilated fabric up. “Gee, thanks, Ky.”

He shrugs. “I’ll get you new ones. Here.” Kylo snags a towel from the rack and steps out of his sweatpants, offering them to you. You take them, though your nose wrinkles slightly in disgust. Kylo shrugs again.

“Best I could do.” He throws the towel on the counter and leans to turn the shower on. It’ll suffice enough to make the quick run to your room for a shirt, and at least Jess won’t see you leave the bathroom in a towel. Somehow, that feels too incriminating. You tug on the pants and turn to the mirror to drag your finger through your hair. Your face is sweaty and flushed, and your cunt is still leaking down your thighs in Kylo’s sweatpants, but this is the best your appearance will get.

Kylo is already behind the shower curtain when you turn to- what? Tell him goodbye? Thank him for fucking you into oblivion? Ask where you stand with him now? You shake your head and grab the doorknob, chasing any lead you can think of as to what to say to Jess. Of course, there’s no way she hadn’t heard what was taking place in the bathroom, not with the volume and intensity of the whole ordeal.

That damned part of you that snapped when Kylo was eight inches deep in your cunt demands you stay right here and hop in the shower with him, beg for a second round. But this time, with your lust sedated and your cunt full, the better part of you lets out a sigh and twists the knob in your hand.

“You’ve got this, kid.” Kylo’s baritone echoes over the sound of the running water. You give a graceful snort and shake your head.

“Yeah, okay, asshole.”

The chuckle that rings softly over the tile stays with you long after you’ve left the bathroom.


End file.
